Behind The Scenes
by Wolf Tears-v1.0
Summary: All those moments behind the scenes, all those other, unnoticed characters' thoughts. You never thought about them, wondered about them. This is the story of what we didn't see- the thoughts and views we never knew existed, and the moments lost to time.
1. Table of Contents

I do not own TUC. I'm just borrowing Collins' characters and settings for a few stories. :D

Look at a circle, my friend.

Simple, it seems at first, a line looped about to meet itself to form a round shape. Perfectly balanced, perfectly round, perfectly everything. But if you look closer, you realize something odd, something that shouldn't be- it never ends. It just goes on and on and on. Try it- place your hand on the circle, anywhere you please, and try to find the end. Interesting, no? And another thing- does it have sides?

If this was a riddle, the answer to that question would be yes- an inside and an outside. But this isn't, I believe, a riddle. And so the answer to the question is still yes, but a different kind of yes- yes in that there are many tiny, tiny sides, sides so small we cannot even see them, that make up a circle.

Why, you may now ask, am I putting you through a geometry lesson when you could be reading fanfiction? Because this is an explanation. A story is, in its own right, a circle. It never ends unless you say it does. It has many sides and pieces and points of view, some that we'd never even think about. But they're there, just like the sides of a circle- behind the scenes but right before us, unnoticed but essential.

This is what this series of oneshots is about. Those crucial moments behind the scenes, the story before- and maybe even after- the Chronicles, and the thoughts of characters we never cared to see the point of view of. These are all sides or the story, sides that must be looked at if one is to consider TUC to its full potential.

Read on.

**The Stories**

1.) You Don't Have To Do This- Goldshard's last stand at defending her pups. Abuse and violence.  
2.) Better Off- Twitchtip knew she was better off alone. Poem. Because Twitchtip pwns you.  
3.) I'm Not Crazy- everyone thinks Pearlpelt is insane, but he knows he's really not... Poem. Because dementia pwns you more.  
4.) The Prophecy of Pairs- Sandwich's clearest and prophecy yet tells who is destined to be together. Humor.  
5.) Plauge- Ares' thoughts as he lies in the hospital, fighting a disease as deadly as any gnawer. Some AAAR.  
6.) Jungle- with her wing dislocated, Aurora has little to do but rest- and think. Companion to Plague. Unwritten.  
7.) Music to My Ears- once, Gregor enjoyed music. Now, it's downright painful... Unwritten.


	2. You Don't Have To Do This

I reiterate, friends and fellow country(wo)men- I owneth not the Underland Chronicles, for that beith the job of Suzanne Collins, Ripred rest her most woundrous soul.

Warning: this piece of writing inolves extreme abuse and violence. -coughcoughSnarecoughcough-

**You Don't Have to Do This**;; A Last Stand

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Goldshard crouched between Snare and the pups, her eyes ablaze with fire. She was poised to fight, claws extended, muscles tensed to jump, those glaring eyes never leaving the monster that her mate had become. A low growl could be heard deep in her throat, and her paws twitched as though eager to leap at the gnawer before her. And yet in those burning eyes there was also a plea- a hope that she could turn this around

"Snare, you don't have to do this."

The other rat laughed, cold and unyielding. "Give me one good reason not to."

Desperation entered her voice now as she tried to search for a solution that would make him happy. "Any number of family would take those pups. We wouldn't even have to tell them about Pearlpelt- nobody would care, they take the pups without question. And- and it's wrong, Snare, wrong! They're innocent. They never did anything to anybody. They can barely even walk!"

"Such adept thieves for such little creatures." Snare yawned, and Goldshard trembled with rage. He was _bored_. "Pearlpelt isn't big enough yet to compete with them, and he's the one who needs the milk. They need to be out of the way."

"I _told_ you," growled the golden gnawer, "There are countless parents who would take orphan pups."

"Ah, but they're not technically orphaned, now are they?" Snare raised an eyebrow at Goldshard, and she could swear he was smirking. "Besides, compared to the white one, what are their lives but those of crawlers?"

Goldshard glanced at her son. The Bane- she knew that. She knew, of course, that he would someday be the scourge of the Underland, destined to kill and create a reign of terror. But right now he looked anything but fearsome; Pearlpelt was huddled with his brother and sisters, all four of them together in a tight knot as far from Snare as they could get. Each was silent, their eyes fixed on the quarrelling adults as they shivered in fear. Not one seemed aware of what their parents were discussing.

That was all it took. One glance at her pups, and Goldshard was angry again, all traces of despair gone. The gold-coated gnawer turned back to Snare, her eyes full of hate. "Take that back," she snarled, and took a step forward.

Snare wasn't laughing anymore. He stared at Goldshard, his eyes hard. "Oh, but you look as though you plan to make me?"

"I do." Goldshard fixed her stubborn gaze on Snare's cold one, refusing to back down despite knowing that this could be a suicidal move. There was never any telling what Snare would do when he was angry. She knew that all too well. She didn't care.

No more words were spoken. The pups screamed in unison, their first sound since Snare had entered the cavern, as their rage-driven father dashed forward. Goldshard was ready for him; his claws met air, and an instant later the female raked her own claws across his face. Her victory didn't last long; Snare, used to fighting, not only gained his feet in an instant but also barreled forward, catching Goldshard, who had expected her opponent to stay down a moment longer, off guard. They rolled over and over a few times, the momentum of Snare's charge carrying them together as they both bit and scratched in an attempt to gain the advantage.

The adults slowed to a stop as the pups watched, and inwardly both children and mother wailed. Goldshard was trapped, her claws stopped mid-motion, beneath Snare. The huge gray rat didn't seem happy with his victory, however; his eyes were still burning angrily at his mate as his screaming voice filled the cavern. "You dare defy me!"

The pups wailed with each blow, but Goldshard made no sound as the rain of claws and teeth and tail fell on her. She barely even seemed to feel the blood or hear the ripping of her flesh; her only moved was to turn her eyes toward the pups, desperately willing them to leave while Snare was distracted. Each one stared back at her, horror in their eyes, and the golden rat felt her heart ache as she thought of the chance they were missing.

At last Snare stood back, breathing heavily as he stared at his mate's battered body on the floor. "Never," he hissed at her, "resist me again. My will is all, Goldshard. You mean nothing." He literally spat the last words out at her, then he was done; the huge gnawer whirled around to face the pups, taking several steps toward them with his teeth bared.

As the pups wailed and cringed from their father's glaring eyes, Goldshard at last moved- but only to crawl to her aching paws and stumble forward a few paces before tripping and falling. She had to spit blood out of her mouth before speaking, and her voice gurgled faintly as she forced out a harsh whisper. "Snare!"

He paid no attention. A flash of his claws, and Creamclaw lay dead on the floor; the remaining pups screamed, their cries echoing off the stone walls and making it sound as though there were thousands of tortured pups instead of just three. Snare grinned sadistically, moving forward again; his rage mostly gone, he was back in control, and thoroughly enjoying himself. A snap cracked across the air like lightning, and Singetail's neck was broken; all Goldshard could think was to be glad the pups were dyeing quickly, without pain.

Not so for Jet. The little black gnawer, the feistiest of the bunch, tried to put up a fight; he struck out wildly with his claws, and though he missed Snare, his daring was enough to enrage the older gnawer. The screams seemed to go on for hours as Pearlpelt and Goldshard watched, unable and unwilling to tear their eyes away; at last Jet's suffering ended the final sound of ripping flesh, and Snare kicked the severed black head away to rest with the ebony limbs that already formed a gruesome pile.

"You two," Snare hissed as he swiveled his gaze from mate to son and back again, "would do well to remember this." With that the gray gnawer turned and stalked away, his angry muttering audible from yards away.

"Mama," came the whisper from terrified little Pearlpelt. The moment Snare was out of view he crept to his mother, cuddling close to her as tears streamed down his eyes. "Why?"

"I don't know, baby. I don't know." Goldshard felt her own tears start and tried to hold them back for Pearlpelt's sake. His life may have been ruined already, but she could at least play the strong parental figure.

"I'm scared." Those simple words were so loaded Goldshard never would have believed a pup could utter them had she not just heard her son tell them to her. She held him close, and neither cared that her blood soaked them both, staining them red; they needed each other just then.

"Me too." Goldshard couldn't help but let the words slip out.

Mother and son sobbed together.


	3. Better Off

I don't own Twitchtip or her life. Just this sad little poem about my favorite character. -sob-

I appreciate all my review(er)s. Thanks, guys! MBF, no, her doesn't deserve his name capitalized. And DCW, I'm sorry I made you cry, but I'm glad you liked it. And everyone, I appreciate that you liked it. I wasn't sure if anyone would... Snare ruins basically everything he's in... -glares-

Anyways, you're not here to listen to me ramble. So!

**Better Off**

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_I'm better off away from you  
I prefer being on my own  
I'd rather not have you throwing curses  
And I love to be free of your hate_

_All I can hear is my breathing  
And all I can feel is my heartbeat  
And if I never go back to the hatred  
It will be too soon_

_Why do I feel so lonely?  
You hate me. I know this.  
I could never go back and be happy  
I know this._

_I know that you'd never accept me  
So all I can do is accept myself  
And go on with this life I chose for me  
In favor of living with you_

_So why does it hurt so much  
To not be able to hear your screams?  
Why do I long to hear curses batter at my ears?  
I'd die just to know that I'm still hated._

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Twitchtip... you know you love her.

In answer to CC, "you" refers to the gnawers in general.

Review, please! I'm Not Crazy will come out at ten... -hinthintwinkwinknudgenudge-


	4. I'm Not Crazy

As always, I own nothing but this computer, this fanfiction account, and my own writing. The characters in this poem belong to Suzanne Collins... for now... -evil grin-

Thanks, all:)

DCW- I know the meter was off. Probably either I just didn't care at the time, or we're stressing our words differently. See, with my poems: if it rhymes, it's a coincidence; if the meter is off, it's because either I didn't care or I'm placing my stresses oddly. I do that a lot.

Also to DCW: I -KNEW- I'd gotten the inspiration somewhere! -smacks head- I wasn't trying to copy you, if you're wondering. (I'd never do that.) In fact, when I started writing it wasn't going to have anything to do with Twtichtip. The fanfic factor didn't come in until about the third line. :D

Now, to quote Aria, let's "BRING ON THE BANE!"

**I'm Not Crazy**  
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_Some call me controlling  
Others say insane  
But I promise I'm not crazy  
I know for a fact that I'm not_

_You can ask Twirltounge  
She knows so much, and wouldn't lie  
And she knows as well as I do  
That I'm not crazy-I'm not!_

_So I want to wipe out the nibblers  
They deserve it, don't they?  
Gnawers are the true power here  
And I deserve to lead them!_

_So maybe I've lied- once, twice  
But if it puts us in control…  
So maybe I've believe blatant lies  
But is that different from anyone else?_

_Perhaps I'd kill myself to kill another  
Or mutilate my own self  
Just to come out on top  
To keep the position I deserve_

_So what? That's not crazy, is it?  
She tells me it's normal, and I believe her  
Just because I'm not like everyone else  
Doesn't make me so different- right?_

_I'm the Bane- everyone knows that  
And that makes me king  
__Me- not the fool who raised me  
Nor the monster who called himself my father…_

_Some would call me crazy  
But it doesn't make me insane  
Because I'm __not insane, I'm__not crazy  
No, I'm not, I'm swear, I'm not…_

_Everyone says I'm crazy  
But she still tells me I'm sane  
She promises me that I'm normal  
And I believe her…_

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See? More off-meter-ness. XD

Anyways. Again, reviews are luffed, though since the next chapter isn't written I can't bribe you with the promise of another story. I'll write Plague ASAP, though.

Thanks again, everyone!


	5. The Prophecy of Pairs

As always, I own nothing but the idea for this story and the computer I write it on.

Unfortunately, Pearlpelt _will_ believe pretty much anything Twirltounge says... which is much of what got the Underland into that whole mess in the first place. -sigh-

Now, I introduce to you my attempt at humor!

**The Prophecy of Pairs**;; a prophecy gone wrong.

Luxa stared at the piece of parchment in her trembling hands. She still couldn't believe she was doing this- and the more times she read the list, the further her faith in Sandwich fell. This was absolutely ridiculous! But the Council, naturally, had called the meeting, and now the entire Underland was here to listen to her read this.

Personally, she wanted to throw the parchment into a fire and order that section of the Prophecy Room chipped off. But she had not choice.

Finally the Queen of Regalia looked up and took a deep breath. The crowd began to quiet down, and Luxa shivered as she gazed back and forth between the crowd and the prophecy. Finally she called out.

"Underlanders! Humans, gnawers, nibblers, fliers, diggers, cutters, crawlers, shiners, and spinners! We are, as most of you know, here today to hearken to what has been decided as the latest prophecy of Snadwich!" She glanced down at the prophecy once again, then went on. "Titled the Prophecy of Pairs, it is said that Sandwich was often tormented by this particular vision, because though he could see the names of those involved he could not see the end result. Yet this is one of the clearest prophecies yet."

A murmur of confusion swept through the crowd. Luxa silence them with a wave of one hand. "Because of this inconsistency, many say that the information herein may be incorrect. However… supposedly, those listed together by the prophecy are destined for each other."

The crowd erupted; excited babbling broke out, and this time Luxa could do nothing to calm them down. People were looking suspiciously at their neighbors, clutching their loved ones as though their life depended on it. With a sigh, Luxa waited for them to quiet on their own before going on.

"Without further ado, let us- Gregor, what is the Overland expression?" The queen turned her head to look at the Overlander; he whispered something to her, and she nodded. "Yes, thank you. Let us 'get it over with'.

"First…" Luxa gulped. This would not be received well. "Howard and Henry."

Both teenagers gagged; Howard, who had been sipping a glass of water at the time, managed to soak the floor in front of him; luckily anyone with an affiliation to the royal family had been sitting in the front row and no one else was wet. Both boys stood, staring at each other for a moment; as the rest of the arena stared in silence, they turned in unison and began vehemently shaking their heads at Luxa, pointing at each other, themselves, and the prophecy and shouting various obscene things.

Hurriedly Luxa moved on. "Lapblood and…" her eyes bulged; how had she missed _this_? "Lapblood and Cartesian."

The nibbler, who had been sitting near the front, stood and quickly made his way to the center of the nibbler crowd, where he vanished out of sight. Lapblood, being a royal advisor, couldn't do the same, but she did spit out a series of what Luxa was pretty sure were gnawer curses. Mange touched his tail to her shoulder protectively and whispered something in her ear, and the gnawer relaxed.

Another gulp. "Ah… Boots-" there was an angry outburst from Gregor, which Luxa allowed to pass before finishing. "Boots and Queen Wevox."

Gregor leaped to his feet and began shouting; the spinner queen looked downright murderous, and her underlings began to edge away nervously.

Luxa raised her voice, attempting to drown out the noises. "Gregor and Ripred!" she shouted; then what pigment she had drained away, and she kicked herself in horror. She had meant to "accidentally" skip that one!

Too late. Ripred and Gregor shared horrified glances, then spoke in unison for the first time in their lives. "No way in hell, Luxa!"

In her place next to Ripred, Ripred, Twitchtip looked positively livid. The Queen of the Gnawers wasted no hesitation over breaking protocol; she charged out of her spot and to the center of the arena, then stuck hr nose right into Luxa's face. "And what right does a dead man have to break apart couples?!"

The entire arena exploded at this; Luxa backed away from Twitchtip, looking scared, as shouting swept through the ranks. Someone- a Council member, she thought- ran up and pulled her none too gently away from Twitchtip; then, not bothering to give the gnawer a second glance, he began bellowing out the next few couples on the list, his voice loud enough to carry through the crowd. "Zap and Andromeda! Hazard and Frill! Pandora and Aurora! Solovet and Stellovet!"

Stellovet raised an eyebrow as though to say, "_Her_? Sorry, but, _no_." The rest weren't nearly so calm. Pandora and Aurora both swooped down from their perches on the roof of the arena and began flying in crazed and agitated circles, shrieking in pitches that seemed to physically hurt everybody who wasn't a flier. Solovet pulled her sword out and pointed it at the reader, loudly demanding a duel. Hazard seemed creeped out, but never being one for violence he settled for loud protests; Frill, on the other hand, went wild and ran all around the arena, squashing several cutters unlucky enough to be in her path. Zap complained in earsplittingly shrill tones about how her one true love was food; Photos Glow-Glow looked offended and yelled a few profane comments at her, which sparked an argument between the two that provided a wonderful harmony for Queen Athena's raving screams.

Luxa marched to the idiot who had stolen the parchment and tried to take it back, but he ran several yards away, continuing to read. "Temp and Photos Glow-Glow! Twitchtip and Heronian! Newton and Chim!"

Temp, normally mild-mannered, began to protest. "Not, I do, not," he said, and then, lacking the words in English, switched to agitated crawler clicking. Photos Glow-Glow completely ignored the words, attempting instead to continue his argument with Zap, who was glaring at the floor of the arena and paying no attention to the other shiner; finally figuring out what had been said, Photos Glow-Glow whipped around to glare with her, looking even more unhappy than he had a moment ago and shouting things about no-account crawlers and not leaving Zap (his rear end, which had been burning red in any event, darkened rapidly after that comment). Twitchtip looked horrified and ran to stand back next to Ripred, who entwined his tail in hers comfortingly and narrowed his eyes at the person reading the pairs out. Heronian, being a mild sort, went to join Cartesian in hiding in the crowd; meanwhile, Newton and Chim merely looked confused, but their parents were screaming angrily at anyone nearby.

Finally Luxa had had enough. Abandoning dignity, she ran at the Council member and tackled him with a flying leap. Furiously she ripped the parchment from his hands; not even a quarter of the couples had been read off, but she didn't exactly care anymore. Her hands furiously shredded the prophecy into tens or maybe hundreds of little pieces as she screamed, not drowning out the entire arena with her voice, but surprising everybody into shutting up so that she may as well have done just that. "Everybody!" Bits of parchment fluttered down to rest at her feet, and she kicked at them angrily for emphasis. "Disregard this entire meeting, and ignore all- and I do mean ALL- of the instructions in this fool's excuse for a prophecy!" Now everybody was staring in astonishment- especially the humans, who of course revered Sandwich. Their eyes, already wide with shock, widened as she continued, using an Overland expression for lack of anything sufficient in the Underland. "Just- just- oh, screw Sandwich!"

Dead silence followed Luxa as she stalked out of the room, on her way to find a mason so that she could order exactly what should have been done earlier- erase this prophecy from the walls of the room. Maybe it was blasphemy, but at this point, she didn't care.

Sometimes it was good to be a queen.


	6. Plague

Hehe... Thanks to you guys you reviewed. You rock!

I basically ignored all rules of dead and alive for this. Ares, however, is not in here because... um... he's recuperating in the hospital from... er... a relapse! Yeah, he's recuperating from a relapse of the plague.

Ares: In other words, she forgot me. -flies off to a corner to sulk-

Tears: Oh, shut up. This entire chapter is about you.

Ares: -perks up-

Tears: Yep! Though I don't like it as much as I could... It's not my best work.

Oh well. It's been in the making for a while, it's time to put it out. Hope you guys enjoy it anyway. Be sure to let me know what you think! ;)

Read and (hopefully) enjoy,

-Tears

**Plague**;; a story of last hope

He was going to die. There was no point in denying it any longer.

It was such a shame, to die now, after he had survived so much else. He had made it through abandonment and social distortion, Henry's betrayal and the aftermath of that. He had pulled his way through the loss of Aurora and Luxa, not to mention multiple battles with the gnawers. Every challenge life had thrown at him, he had fought and waited and worried and, in the end, made it through.

But this was the final straw.

Despite having decided this- despite having acknowledged that he was to die- Ares found himself unable to merely give in to the end of his life. Every time he tried to still his already-labored breathing, his body instinctively fought back and air was forced into his lungs. And, of course, given his lack of strength, he had no other way to end his own life.

If only he could! It wasn't just the knowledge of impending death that had prompted Ares to wish he was dead. The pain was, to say the least, unbearable. This plague had been eating at him for- weeks now? A month? Two? And every day seemed worse than the last; the air could hardly make it past his swollen tongue and into his pained lungs, the bald patches that now dotted his body were itching like nothing else, and every time one of those triple-cursed bumps exploded, the area went numb with the pain.

And it was a hopeless situation. Every day he saw the doctors rushing around, and sometimes they would pull out some fur and draw some blood and the like to use in their tests. But that very fact told him how desperate his case was getting- had they been getting close, they would no longer be testing, unless it was to give him medicine and see how it affected him. But every time he saw Neveeve, who came in at regular intervals to give him something that helped ease the pain, she seemed just as jumpy and nervous and desperate as the day before.

"The Prophecy of Blood"- those were some of the only words that drifted to his news-deprived ears, but they were enough. So they thought it was here- and he was the first victim.

He had to admit it made sense. When he had bonded with the Overlander, he had taken Vikus' suggestion and made himself familiar with the prophecies concerning the Warrior.

The first stanza- he remembered that one clearly. And it all fit:

_Warmblood now a bloodborne death  
__Will rob you body of its breath  
__Mark your skin and seal your fate  
__The Underland becomes a plate_

If this wasn't death- this agonizing, terrible pain and the struggle for air- he didn't know what was. Sandwich knew he couldn't breathe, and his skin- even if he lived and the fur grew back, he would be marked for life. However long that life may be...

Another part of the prophecy found its way, unbidden, into his mind, and Ares winced at the vaguely remembered words:

_Bring the Warrior from above  
__If yet his heart is swayed by love..._

He couldn't, through the haze of pain that clouded his mind, remember the rest, but it didn't matter.

Nothing mattered. Because Gregor needed to be here for the plague- for it would undoubtedly become a plague- to be cured, for the prophecy to be fulfilled. And Gregor wasn't here.

Ares fought back the bitter thoughts that crowed his mind. He didn't know that Grgor had chosen not to come. For all he knew, his bond was sick or trapped in the Overland or even dead.

So all he could do was drift off to sleep. But the dreams were little better than real life...

_A golden bat spun through his dreams; first happy, laughing without a care in the world as they flipped through the air, tossing a small ball back and forth between them; then screaming at him, her eyes ablaze with hate; then crying, then screaming, then ripped from midair by a huge rat. He reached out to help her, but his wings were heavy, too heavy- he cuoldn't move. Her death kneel filled his ears, and he screamed with her, a scream of hopeless ddespair. And now he was falling- falling into water- falling into the Tankard- falling where she had fallen. Then, as he landed, the water became blood, and he retched as he landed, overcome by the reek. He felt himself surrounded by no liquid, but rather a sea of pain, of struggling breath, of death and despair... Death..._

_A huge black flier, like himself but far bigger, with eyes that glowed red as the blood around Ares. Death landed upside down above him. Ares stared desperately, pleading it to take him; but the huge flier merely stared, a trace of mockery on his dark face. Ares cried out once more in desperation, and finally there was a response- the other flier rose from its perch and left the cavern, shooting Ares one last, contempt-filled glance as it did so._

_He retched, screamed again, and there was an echoing voice- another scream cut across his own, a sound similar in levels of pain, but higher, more shrill._

"_Aurora!" he screamed- but this time the only answer was the echoes of his own voice._

_And as he drowned in despair and hopelessness and death, he closed his eyes to the world..._

Ares' black eyes snapped open. The tears that had been held back by his closed eyelids during the dream were let lose; for several moments Ares merely sobbed out his pain, and what fur was left to his face was soaked as quickly as the pillow he lay his head on. The echoes of his cries rebounded back on him, reminding him forcibly of his dream, and he wished even more desperately than before for the end.

For a flier, the world is created by not light, but by sound. The world is drawn through echolocation; the images they see are crafted from not color, but shape- each contour, each line, each detail - large and small- everything is drawn clearly. Often they use their eyes as well, to give them a sense of color; but their ocular sense is to a human's auditory, and vice-versa. For humans, hearing is an aide to sight; for fliers, sight is an aide to hearing.

In other words, in the same way that a completely dark room would cause a human to imagine things in the darkness that weren't real, Ares though the complete silence in the glass-enclosed universe would drive him stark raving mad. He was beginning to hear things- his own breathing, tense and heavy, rebounded back on him from all directions; images appeared that couldn't possibly have been there, images of baby rats and Overlanders and smiling fliers; the voices of those he knew forced their way into his mind, laughing and crying and screaming, hateful and desperate and anxious and even, sometimes, happy, or hopeful.

Had that been a sound? Ares could hardly raise his head, but he couldn't help but think perhaps that noise had been real, not something from his imagination. He waited a moment; but there was nothing else to indicate reality. So much for that idea.

Wait- there it was again! Ares turned his head as best he could toward the rap on the window, remembering to use his eyes and not his ears for looking through glass.

And his breath caught.

_Bring the warrior from above..._

Ares' eyes locked with Gregor's; the boy gave an obviously forced smile, and Ares tried to relax himself, for Gregor's sake if nothing else. He truly was too young to deal with all this- he was only eleven, far too young to be a warrior, far too young to lay eyes on something as horrendous as this illness that was stealing his life.

But maybe it wouldn't steal his life after all...

_Bring the Warrior from above._

Gregor pressed his hand to the glass, and Ares in response did his best to raise his wing, extending it toward his bond.

Maybe he would live after all.

Maybe he would make it- because now his bond had come. The Warrior. The Overlander. Gregor.

And with him came hope.


End file.
